


When the Fire Dies Down

by iwantcandy2



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alpha Ancestors, Ashen Romance | Auspistice, Beforus, Beforus culture, F/F, Gen, Justice system, Multi, OT3, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 18:28:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1575230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwantcandy2/pseuds/iwantcandy2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Beforus, Aradia and Terezi are responsible for the rehabilitation of the criminal Vriska Serket.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Fire Dies Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [viridianmasquerade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/viridianmasquerade/gifts).



> For the prompt:  
> Aradia Megido/Terezi Pyrope/Vriska Serket  
> Summary:  
> This is a difficult one, so if no one fills it that's cool, but I'd die happy to see this done as Beforus ancestors. Would love to see Aradia (the Shepherd) mediating between Terezi (the Justicar) and Vriska (I can't think of a good eight-letter ancestor title for her), but hell, if you're willing to fill this and you don't want to do that, go fucking nuts because I love you anyway.
> 
> This prompt was too good to pass up!

Today was the day of the Criminal’s release. Beforus was a peaceful society that didn’t believe in corporal punishment, nor did they believe in the branding and social stigmatism of convicts. The Criminal had chosen her title. She thought it made her sound cool.

“I give this one a week before she’s back again,” Justicar drawled, idly cleaning her claws with her teeth. “Sort of a bother to release her at all.”

“Remember, we aren’t here to condemn,” the Shepherd reminded. “After the debt has been repaid, the crime is forgotten. All are allowed a second chance.”

The Justicar waved a thick red folder under Shepherd’s nose. It was always red with this girl.

“See what I have here? This is her file. People may forgive the crimes, put triplicate is forever.”

She brought the sheaf close to her face and inhaled deeply, as if she was sampling a bouquet of roses. Beside her, Shepherd just shook her head and stifled a laugh. She may not agree with her friend’s harsh sense of justice, but she did like her zany sense of humor.

They arrived in front of cell number 888. With a theatrical slowness, Justicar thumbed through her keycards.

“Let’s see, which one was it? The one that smells like lemon? No, no, that’s not it.”

Shepherd rolled her eyes.

“Justy, the reconstructive surgery went perfectly. We all know you can see just fine.”

“Yeah, but my memory is still a bitch! Did you know that scent is the sense most closely linked to memory recall?”

“Just open the damn door!” a voice called from within, muffled by the thick walls. “Come oooooooon already, I’m going to die of old age!”

“Unlikely,” Shepherd responded, smile unfazed. “Your blood caste ensures you many more years of troublemaking!”

“Yeah, if anyone is going to die of old age, it’s you, Shep,” the Justicar joked, elbowing her in the side. She slid the card into the slot and entered the passcode. With a shrill chime, the door slid open.

“About time,” the Criminal whined, shouldering past them. “All right, ladies, it’s been real, make sure to write, ex oh ex oh, see you on the flip side.”

“Not so fast,” Justicar said, taking hold of the blueblood’s arm. “You aren’t being granted a full release. You’re on probation.”

“So?” she snorted, tossing her hair over one shoulder with the force of a bullwhip.

“So you aren’t getting rid of us. For the next 1.5 sweeps, we’re going to be beeeeeeeest friends,” Justicar sneered, tossing her arm over the Criminal’s shoulder.

“Both of you? At once? Isn’t that cruel and unusual punishment?”

“It’s awfully unfair for both Shep and I to suffer,” Justicar agreed, “but what can we say, we have faith in the system.”

“This isn’t supposed to be a punishment,” Shepherd spoke up, not sure which one needed the explanation more. “We’re here to help you get back on your feet. Due to your…repeat visits, there was concern that maybe you needed a little extra guidance getting back into society. That’s why I’m here. To shepherd you.”

“And I’m here to taze you when that plan eventually fails,” Justicar cackled.

“For a whole sweep?” Criminal asked, mouth in a pout worthy of the most melodramatic adolescent.

“Sweep and a half,” Shepherd corrected.

“Just kill me now.”

“Would if I could,” Justicar chirped, “but Her Glorious Benevolence outlawed execution 100 sweeps ago. So come on. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Justicar and Shepherd each took an arm (one with more delicacy than the other). Together, they marched Criminal out of the correctional facility and into the first moonlight she had seen in a perigee.

*~Three Perigees later~*

“I’ll do it. I swear I’ll do it,” Criminal threatened.

“I will send you straight back to the slammer if you do,” Justicar hissed.

The two were staring each other down, the air practically crackling with hatred. It had been a stressful few perigees. War had been waged, battles had been won and lost, tension had been building. The pressure in the soda-bottle of emotion was finally ready to blow.

“I don’t think flushing your favorite stuffed dragon down the toilet counts as a felony,” Shepherd spoke up, startling Justicar.

“Shep, tell her to stop putting her disgusting tongue all over my stuff. I am about to flip my shit,” Criminal whined.

With a sigh, Shepherd set the sack of groceries down on the table. These two couldn’t be let alone for five minutes without starting a fight. Gently, she took Criminal’s wrist, pulling her away from the toilet. In her other hand, she grabbed Justicar’s shoulder.

Steering the both of them to the couch, she shoved them down and plopped in between them.

“I want everyone to take some deep breaths,” she said, folding her legs into a pretzel.

“Oh no. I am not doing any more of this meditation crap,” Criminal whined.

“I want you to find your center. Think of the most peaceful place you can imagine.”

“Not doing it!”

“Let go of what ties you to this plane. Release your energy and ascend.”

“This is a bunch of hokey bull.”

“Now visualize. Find that place of peace.”

“Buuuuuuuull!”

“Are you visualizing yet, Crimminy?” Shepherd asked, giving her a broad smile that betrayed no hint of annoyance.

“I told you not to call me that,” Criminal grumbled, giving in and drawing her legs underneath her. With a huff, she closed her eyes and started breathing.

“Good,” Shepherd cooed. “Now let go. With every breath, expel the negative energy from within yourself. Breathe in the universe. Breathe out the bad. In. Out. In. Out. 

She continued to chant, voice a steady beat. To her left, she could see Justicar’s shoulders slumping. That girl carried the weight of the world on those puppies. No wonder she was always so terse with Criminal. To her right, Criminal was finally breathing evenly, forgetting to be self-conscious. Right where she wanted them.

Still keeping up her mantra, Shepherd gently took one of Justicar’s hands.

The world wasn’t black and white.

With her other hand, she threaded her fingers with Criminal’s.

Everything could mix. Black and white could become one. The lawmen and the outlaw could lie down together.

Slowly, she drew their hands into her lap, overlapping them just at the fingertips.

Grey was harmony. Grey was mixture, where opposites could meet.

She placed her own hand on top of their joined ones. Three. Harmony.

Ash. What is left after the fire of anger has burned away, after the world is left to grow again.

“Now breathe.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I desperately need more Alpha Ancestors. So much potential! Also, I really liked the chance to explore an ashen romance. It was really interesting to write, and I feel like it doesn't get explored near enough. So thank you for the thought-provoking prompt!
> 
> For more quadrant shenanigans, check out my other stories.


End file.
